Seychelles's Story
by whoevenISthis
Summary: This is a fanfic that I started writing while I couldn't sleep last night. I would normally be roleplaying, but my wi-fi is down...and the story is not romantic  SeyXIggy  yet. It might become that, but for now Iggy's just mean.  Hope you like it
1. Chapter 1

Hiding in a dark closet as silently as possible, Angelique tried to remember what she had done this time. After a few minutes of no luck, she gave up. Whatever it was, it must have been pretty bad to piss him off this much. Everntually, Angelique felt herself beginning to fall asleep. It was a dark, silent closet after all! She had the worst dream possible. It was no nightmare, it was reality. The dream was about how she got to be in this situation...

It was another lovely spring day. A younger, thirteen years old, to be exact, version of myself loved everything about spring. But today, in particular, was different and important. It was the day that Papa France had to sign over ownership of my country to the British Empire. I had found out about this one month ago, and I spent that entire month arguing with France. In the end, he won, as usual, so Seychelles was to become British territory. I was feeling a mixture of emotions that day: excited to meet someone new, sad about leaving home, nervous of what England would think of me, and scared of leaving Papa. I had expected England to be nice, but as soon as I met him, I thought otherwise.

The first words he said when he entered Papa's house were, "I'm here to get my property, Frog," emphasizing the words 'my property' and 'Frog'.

"Bonjour, Angleterre~ No need to be so rude," was how my Papa, Francis Bonnefoy greeted the incredibly rude Arthur Kirkland. They then proceeded to argue over some unimportant fact, believing me to be in my room, not in the next room over, evesdropping.

"So where is she?" questioned a now very-annoyed Brit.

"Oh, Seychii~ Could you come here?" Papa France called me. Knowing that it'd take me a little while to get downstairs, I waited a few moments before walking in and asking, "Yes? What is it?" I could tell that England was surprised by one of three things about me by the way he raised his inhumanly large eyebrows. It was either that I was too pretty to be thirteen, too pretty to be related to France, or very rude for questioning why I was needed. It turned out to be a bit of all three.

"Is this really her, Frog?" There it was again. Calling my amazing Papa a frog. It was so mean! I couldn't help myself from rudely blurting out, "Why are you calling Papa France a frog?" As soon as I realized that I said those words aloud, I covered my mouth with both hands and looked at the ground.

"That was very rude of you, Seychelles. But, nonetheless, I shall answer your question. I call France a frog simply because he is one. Frogs are repulsive, unwanted pests, as is he," England stated, insulting Papa as if he did so on a daily basis (which I'd later learn to be true).

"Oh, I am sorry for being rude, Angleterre," was my aplogy to him. I purposely used the French name for him, just to annoy him.

"Apology accepted," he turned to Papa, " Now can we hurry this up? I don't enjoy spending time in your house."

"Oui. Here are the papers," Papa said, handing the U.K. some official-looking papers.

"And," he continued, turning to me, "Seychii, please go get your stuff." I nodded and ran upstairs while fixing one of my ribbon-typed pigtails.

After a few minutes, I came back down with my things to see them waiting. Papa gave me a bg hug and told me how much he'd miss me and wished that he didn't have to do this. I hugged him back and teared up a bit. After our embrace, England wasted no time in making us leave. After we had walked about a block away, he stopped me, telling me he had a gift for me. At the time I had been excited and eagerly asked for it. I now wish that I hadn't. As soon as I accepted, he put a dog collar around my neck. I remember asking what it was for, in my still-shakey English. And his reply was exactly this: "It's so that everyone knows you are my property." I couldn't believe my ears. In all the years I had known Papa, he had never once called me his property. And now here comes this new guy, steals me from France, and automatically calls me property, as if I don't have feelings. Oh how I wished that I could run back home to Papa. But Angleterre had already snapped a leash onto my collar and began pulling me along. I had no choice but to continue walking away.


	2. Chapter 2

I had thought that the dog collar was bad, but that was until we got to England's house. First, he showed me to my painfully-small room. I didn't understand why I had such a tiny room, I mean the man lived in a mansion! I knew it'd be a bad idea to question him, so I said nothing. England left my room and told me to stay put until he came back to get me. I did as he said. About half an hour later, the disgusting smell of some kind of food, definitely not French or Seychellois, burning reached me. I simply ignored it.

Not that long after, England came to get me for a "wonderful dinner". It was more like an inedible dinner. We went downstairs to the dining room and I stared at the "food". It didn't even resemble food. The meal was a gross, brownish-black lump on a plate. Somehow, England was eating his. Enjoying it, actually. Noticing that I hadn't started eating, he asked me if there was something wrong.

"Yes, there is. I don't see any food, just a repulsive blob. It doesn't smell, look or feel like food, and I will not be eating it to see if it tastes like food," I explained.

"You...you ungrateful little...you will eat my food, dammit!" England practically exploded. Apparently his cooking was a touchy subject. All I did was slightly shake my head and continue poking the blob to see if it would move.

Bad idea.

After finishing eating, England got up and slapped me across the face. I couldn't believe that he did that...I really couldn't. After that, he sat back down and stared at me. It was making me feel uncomfortable and I really didn't want to eat this food, so I tried lying.

"I'm not hungry."

Bad timing. As soon as I said that my stomach growled. I really was very hungry.

"Stupid git! You will eat now or not again for two weeks!" I couldn't believe it, again. I needed to eat something, so I tried a small piece of the blob. I was right, it didn't taste like food. It was like burnt rubber, the taste and texture... So, I did what any person would do. I spit it out and looked up at the U.K. He was still staring at me, so I had to eat. Somehow, I managed to get the whole thing down. As soon as I finished, I asked to be excused. He allowed me to go, so I ran upstairs, found the bathroom, and threw up.

I walked out of the bathroom straight into England. He told me that it was time for bed. I looked at a clock, it was only seven-thirty! I knew not to arugue, so I agreed. Of course, he said time for bed, not sleep. So, I went to bed and sat there until I was tired, at nine o'clock, the time Papa always made me go to sleep. Papa...it hadn't even been a full twenty-four hours and I missed him more than I ever thought I would. 'I love Papa, and so I can never love this person!' I thought. After that thought, I fell asleep.


End file.
